Classic Poem

Before that spot my hands I clasp'd,
for care full cold that seized on me;
a senseless moan dinned in my heart,
though Reason bade me be at peace.
I plain'd my Pearl, imprison'd there,
with wayward words that fiercely fought;
though Christ Himself me comfort show'd,
my wretched will worked aye in woe.
I fell upon that flowery plat;
such fragrance flash'd into my brain,
I slid into a slumber-swoon
o'er that precious Pearl without a spot.